


Winding Down

by CosmicFlora



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Sick!Crowley, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 19:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicFlora/pseuds/CosmicFlora
Summary: Crowley doesn't get migraines often, but saving the world would put a strain on anyone.





	Winding Down

Dining at the Ritz had been their “thing” for quite a long time now. It wasn’t necessarily because the food was so good, though Aziraphale insisted it was. It was almost as if the four walls gave them a sense of stability on this constantly changing Earth, and this was even truer now. The world was no longer ending and angel and demon were enjoying each other’s company in their usual spot. In Crowley’s case, he seemed to be enjoying the company a lot more than the food.

Aziraphale knew it wasn’t unusual for his companion to avoid eating when they shared a meal. The strange thing was that Crowley had gone to the trouble of ordering lunch, only to push his food disinterestedly around the plate. There was a tell-tale crease right between his eyes.

“Are you feeling alright, dear?” Aziraphale finally asked.

“Hm?”

“You have that pinched look you get when you’re overtired or fighting off a headache.” Crowley blinked slowly at him from behind his glasses.

“That’s…very perceptive of you, Angel.”

“Not really,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “After 6,000 years what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t notice these things?” he smiled fondly. “Also, you didn’t answer my question.” Crowley shrugged noncommittally, a lazy half smirk on his lips.

“I feel alright. Just tired and fighting off a headache.”

“It has been a trying week, hasn’t it?”

“You can say that, again.” Crowley sat up straighter and rolled his shoulders, wincing when a camera flash went off at the table in front of theirs. It was Aziraphale’s turn to look pinched.

“This isn’t the start of one of your migraines, is it?” Crowley rubbed at his forehead.

“No, no. Least I don’t think so.”

Aziraphale was unconvinced before they’d paid the bill and even less convinced when Crowley stood up too fast and immediately swayed on his feet. The angel grabbed him around the waist to steady him.

“Crowley!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Crowley drawled, slowly shaking his head. “Just got a bit dizzy.”

“You look ill,” Aziraphale fretted.

“I’m tired. So are you,” Crowley deflected, noting the dark circles under the angel’s eyes. “Bet you’re just as wrung out as I am.”

“Well I’m not the one who recently used my powers to stop time,” Aziraphale argued. “I should have realized you’d be exhausted.”

People were beginning to stare now, and pretending they weren’t. Aziraphale supposed they did look somewhat odd, two “middle aged men” pressed very close to each other and whispering furiously. Crowley pressed his sunglasses closer to his face in a self conscious gesture and Aziraphale hugged him to his side protectively.

“Let’s go home, dear. Back to the bookshop, I mean. I think we could both use a quiet afternoon.” Crowley sagged against him gratefully.

\-----

Ultimately, they took the bus back, sitting side by side despite the abundance of open seats. A car backfired nearby and Crowley made a keening noise, dropping his face into his hands. Aziraphale moved closer and started rubbing gently between the demon’s shoulder blades. By the time the bus stopped in front of Aziraphale’s shop, Crowley had gone pale as chalk, his forehead puckered in obvious pain.

“Don’t feel so well,” he mumbled to Aziraphale as he was walked through the bookshop’s entrance. The angel tightened his grip around his companion’s waist and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Aziraphale said. “We’ll have you put right in no time.” He knew that Crowley wouldn’t be able to get up again for a while, so Aziraphale didn’t release him until they had made it to the back bedroom. It was a testament to how poorly Crowley was feeling that he didn’t argue once about being tucked into bed.

“Why not take off your glasses? I’m sure they’re only straining your eyes.” Crowley obediently slid the sunglasses off of his nose and let Aziraphale take them. He shut his eyes and waited until the curtains were drawn and a warm hand smoothed the furrows in his brow. “Can I bring you anything? Some tea?” Aziraphale asked, keeping his voice low.

“Hnn...” Crowley shook his head as much as he dared. “Jusss’ hurts.” Aziraphale summoned an ice pack into being and laid it carefully over Crowley’s eyes and forehead. The demon let out a soft hiss of relief and reached for Aziraphale’s arm when he felt the angel’s weight lift from the mattress. “Could you…stay with me?” The pleading note at the back of the request made Aziraphale’s heart break a little.

“Dearest, of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

\-----

It wasn’t the first time Aziraphale had seen him like this. Crowley wasn’t exactly _prone_ to migraines but once every couple of centuries was enough to form a pattern. There were plenty of triggers: Sometimes the light was just too much. Sometimes Crowley pushed himself too hard, or sometimes his body took whatever stress he was feeling and threw it back at him. The more he thought about it, the more Aziraphale kicked himself for not anticipating a post-Apocalyptic breakdown.

The backroom was quiet; the lights only bright enough for Aziraphale to be able to navigate. Crowley lay in a fetal position with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, pressing the ice pack forcefully against his face. His body was coiled so tightly that his partner could feel the tension and pain radiating from it. This was a sensitive time. Aziraphale had to tread the thin line between comfort and over-stimulation and he relied heavily on Crowley to tell him what to do next.

For now, Aziraphale held Crowley’s head, alternating between stroking his hair and pressing lightly on his temples to relieve the pain. Some tea would be helpful, he thought, but only if Crowley managed to keep it down. His stomach could be tetchy at this stage. The angel had also read an article recently about aromatherapy for migraines. Maybe some lavender –

“You’re thinking too loud.” Crowley’s voice was muffled and a little bit teasing.

“Sorry,” Aziraphale whispered, combing his fingers through his hair. “You know how fretful I can be.” Crowley blindly reached out with his free hand and patted Aziraphale’s leg.

“You’re doin’ fine, Angel. Thanks…”

“Are you comfortable like this? I mean relatively?” Crowley stretched his limbs experimentally.

“Lie down with me.” Crowley lowered the compress just enough to be able to make eye contact. “Please? You’re worn out too.” Aziraphale smiled and leaned down to kiss his partner’s forehead.

“Anything you want.”

\-----

Sometime late the next morning, Aziraphale opened his eyes to see sleepy yellow ones blinking back at him.

“Crowley, dear! How are you feeling?” Crowley smiled tiredly.

“Pretty good, actually. Don’t have a spike between the eyes anymore.” Aziraphale reached out and stroked Crowley’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“I’m glad to see some color back in your cheeks.” Crowley closed his eyes, leaning contentedly into the touch.

“You too, Angel.” Aziraphale felt wonderful, not just because he’d enjoyed the rest, but mostly because Crowley looked so much improved.

“You were right about sleeping having its merits. I daresay I could stay like this all day.” Crowley hummed his agreement, his eyes still closed as the angel stroked his cheek.

“Anything you want.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm soft for these two if you couldn't tell. Please don't be shy about reviewing! <3


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